A CBT PUBLICATION
SHORT
STORIES
FOR
CHILDREN
This is a compilation of stories submitted by the
participants at a Writers Workshop conducted by
Children's Book Trust.
© by CBT 1982
Reprinted 1986, 1987, 1988, 1990, 1992, 1993, 1995, 1996,
1998, 2000, 2001, 2003, 2005, 2008.
ISBN 81-7011-314-8
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced
in whole or in part, or stored in a retrieval system, or
transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic,
mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without
the prior written permission of the publisher.
Published by Children's Book Trust, Nehru House,
4 Bahadur Shah Zafar Marg, New Delhi-110002 and printed
at its Indraprastha Press. Ph: 23316970-74 Fax: 23721090
e-mail: cbtnd@cbtnd.com Website: www.childrensbooktrust.com
SHORT
STORIES
FOR
CHILDREN
Children's Book Trust, New Delhi
Contents
Man Overboard
3
Vasantha Murthi
When Papa Scolded Me
12
Ira Saxena
To The Memory Of A Lion
18
Tara Tixoari
The Triumphant Smile
27
K.C. Batra
The Turkish Cap
31
B.P. Gupta
The Goose Thieves
37
Padmini Bannerjee
Christmas Bells
45
R.K. Murthi
In A Guava Orchard
53
N.P. Singh
All Because Of My Hair
59
S.G. Haidar
The Pink Card
64
Indira Ananthakrishrwn
The Unforgettable Journey
73
E. Sheila
Varunkaka's Lemonade Pals
80
Valjayanti
Savant-Tonpe
Hanuman And I
89
Rupa Gupta
At The Party
94
Anil Ekbote
Outwitted
99
Tara Parameswaran
That Sunday Morning
104
Savita Singh
The Boy From Standard III
108
Pratibha Nath
Illustrated by Subir Roy and Geeta Verma
Man Overboard
I stood on the deck of S.S. Rajula. As she
slowly moved out of Madras harbour, I waved to
my grandparents till I could see them no more.
I was thrilled to be on board a ship. It was a new
experience for me.
"Are you travelling alone?" asked the person
standing next to me.
"Yes, Uncle, I'm going back to my parents in
Singapore," I replied.
"What's your name?" he asked.
"Vasantha," I replied.
I spent the day exploring the ship. It looked
just like a big house. There were furnished rooms,
a swimming pool, a room for indoor games, and
a library. Yet, there was plenty of room to 11111
around.
The next morning the passengers were seated
in the dining hall, having breakfast. The loud-
speaker spluttered noisily and then the captain's
voice came loud and clear. "Friends we have just
received a message that a storm is brewing in the
Indian Ocean. I request all of you to keep calm.
Do not panic. Those who are inclined to sea-
3
sickness may please stay in their cabins. Thank
you."
There was panic everywhere. An old lady pray-
ed aloud, "Oh God! Have mercy on us. My only
son is waiting for me in Singapore."
A gentleman consoled her,
"Don't worry,
Madam, it's only a warning. We may not be
affected at all."
Another lady, who was sitting beside me, look-
ed very ill. "Not rough weather! I'm already sea-
sick. A rough sea will be the end of me!"
I could not understand why all the elders were
so upset. I remembered the several sea adven-
tures I had read. Excitedly, I turned to the elder-
ly gentleman sitting next to me. "Uncle, won't it
be thrilling to face a storm on board a steamer?
Have you ever been on a ship during a storm?"
"It can be quite unpleasant, you know," he re-
plied rather severely. "I remember a time when
the ship on which I was travelling ran off course.
We were wandering on the ocean for a couple of
days."
I remembered my class teacher, an English wo-
man, telling us in class one day, "When I crossed
the English Channel on my way to Singapore,
there was a big storm near Gibraltar. The ship
rocked to and fro. Everything in the cabins roll-
ed up and down. Even the heavy pianos in the
lounge went crashing against the walls."
4
This made my imagination run wild. Turning
to 'Uncle' again, I said, "Wouldn't it be fun if the
storm broke when we have lunch? Then the
tables, with all the food on them, would run away
from us. And the chairs, with us sitting on them,
would be a merry-go-round."
Everyone round the table stared at me in hor-
ror. I thought to myself, 'Oh, these adults, they've
no sense of adventure. How dull they are!'
The storm didn't break, but in the evening a
strong wind started blowing. The ship rocked to
and fro, rocking and rolling to the music of the
wind. Huge waves were dashing against it. Even
though the deck was slippery, I was running
around. That's when I noticed Uncle leaning over
the railings. I ran up to him, thinking he too,
was enjoying the experience. "Good morning,
Uncle, isn't it lovely?" I asked him.
But he wasn't well at all. He was retching over
the rails and looked rather blue about the mouth.
I felt sorry for him. "Can I be of any help? Shall
I call the doctor?' I asked him.
He couldn't reply, but only held up his hand.
As another bout of retching shook him he leaned
over the railings. At the same time a huge wave
lashed the ship. It lurched violently and the man
tumbled over the railings into the wild sea. For
a second I stood rooted to the spot. Then I ran
like someone possessed, shouting, "Help! Help!
5
Man overboard! Save him!" I must have made a
lot of noise. I heard footsteps hurrying even that
early in the morning.
Tears streaming down my face and shouting
incoherently, I ran full pelt into an officer.
"What's the matter? Why are you making so
much noise?" he asked in a stern voice, I was
surprised to see it was the captain.
"Oh Sir!" I blurted out in relief. "A man fell
into the sea. Please save him."
"Where?" he asked, immediately on the alert.
"There," I said pointing a finger.
He did not wait for more details but ran at
once to a room full of officers. "Man overboard,"
he cried. "Stop ship. Drop anchor. Quick!" His
instructions were immediately obeyed. The cap-
tain then raced to the upper deck. I kept trailing
behind him. "Lower the life-boats and crew into
the sea towards the helm," he said. "There is a
man overboard." Here again the men quickly
obeyed him.
People started crowding the deck. "What's
happening?" somebody asked me.
Word soon went round. Everyone was tense.
Only an occasional, "There he is!" could be heard.
Someone asked, "Who is he?"
Another replied, "Don't know."
Meanwhile two life-boats moved towards the
man. I stood close to the captain. In his anxiety,
6
he gripped my shoulder tightly and I winced.
"You're hurting me Sir," I protested.
"I am sorry, my dear. The sea is very rough
today. I hope my men can reach him in time. My
ship has never lost a passenger before," he said
crossing himself. He was watching the rescue
operations through a pair of binoculars that hung
round his neck.
The boat was too far for me to see what was
happening. I tugged at the Captain's sleeve.
"What are they doing, Sir? Have they rescued
the man?" I asked him.
"They've caught him by the arms and are pull-
ing him towards the boat." He was giving me a
running commentary. "Oh what bad luck! A sud-
den current has swept the man away dragging
two of the sailors with him." He sounded nervous.
Just then he noticed the passengers crowding
against the railings. "Keep away from those rail-
ings!" he shouted. "We don't want another
accident." The ship had dropped anchor but was
heaving up and down.
I borrowed the captain's binoculars. Now I
could see the rescue operation clearly. The crew
in the rescue boats threw a strong rope to the two
sailors in the sea and shouted, "Catch". Both of
them were good swimmers and soon had caught
hold of the rope. Then, with powerful strokes, they
swam towards Uncle. One of them caught hold
7
of him, while the other tied the rope round his
waist. With Uncle between them and the rope
secure, the sailors swam back to the life-boats. The
rescue team in the boats leaned over and heaved
the three men into it. In a jiffy the boats were
heading back to the ship.
"Thank God!" muttered the captain making the
sign of the cross again, "They've managed to save
him." He turned to the passengers thronging the
railings. "Please do not crowd round the man
when he is brought up. He will need immediate
medical care." Then he saw the ship's doctor stand-
ing with a couple of nurses. A stretcher was also
being brought close to the railings.
"Doctor! Is everything ready for the patient?"
the captain asked.
"Aye, aye, Captain," nodded the doctor.
The captain moved away to restore order on
the ship. I edged close to the doctor and asked,
"What will you do to him, doctor? Will he be all
right?"
"Aye, I think so. All the water will have to be
pumped out of him. He'll have to be given arti-
ficial respiration and kept warm."
"How do you pump the water out?" I asked.
"We put him on his stomach and massage him
until he brings it all up," he replied.
As soon as the rescue team reached the ship,
Uncle was placed on the stretcher and rushed to
8
the hospital room. The captain then came to me
and said, "Run along now and play with your
friends. I'm busy, but will send for you when I'm
through. I might even have a surprise for you."
When he turned away, I quietly sneaked into
the hospital room to see what they were doing to
the patient. Two nurses were scurrying to and fro
with trays full of medicines and syringes. Another
was rushing off with Uncle's wet clothes. I stop-
ped her and asked if Uncle was conscious. "Not
yet," she replied, "but he's better now. He should
regain consciousness in a little while."
The ship was still rolling, so I couldn't play any
games. I went and sat in a cosy chair in the lounge
and started reading a story-book. I was feeling
drowsy and must have dozed off. The next tiling
I knew was somebody saying, "Wake up, child.
You're Vasantha, aren't you? The Captain wants
to see you in his cabin."
I looked up to see a sailor standing before me.
It took me a minute to recollect the rescue ope-
ration and the captain telling me, "I'll call you
afterwards."
I followed the officer eagerly. He left me out-
side the captain's door, saying, "Go right inside."
I knocked and entered. The captain was stand-
ing in the middle of the room. When he saw me,
he came forward and literally swept me off my
feet. He was still smiling when he put me down.
10
"You will have plenty to tell your friends, eh? Now
close your eyes."
I did so. Seconds later, I heard him say, "See
what I've got for you."
On opening my eyes, I saw a big brown box.
On it was written:
"WITH THE BEST COMPLIMENTS OF
CAPT. LINDSAY."
I took the box and eagerly opened it. "Oh,
what a lovely ship!" I exclaimed. "Does this really
belong to me? Can I keep it?"
Lying snugly on a velvet backing was a most
beautiful model of the ship. On it was inscribed
"B.I.S.N. & Co. S.S. RAJULA." I placed the box
carefully on the table. Then I threw my hands
round the captain and hugged and kissed him.
He patted my cheek and smiled as he saw me
lift the box and walk happily out of his room. I
proudly showed my present to everyone I met.
"See what the Captain has given me. Isn't it
lovely?"
"Yes, indeed," was the unanimous verdict.
I was the happiest person on board that day.
11
When Papa Scolded Me
"Baby, come for breakfast. Your milk is getting
cold," called Bhaiya, my elder brother.
I quickly put on my slippers, picked up my
favourite doll, Beeta, and rushed out into the
verandah. It was a beautiful day. The morning
air was most refreshing. "Ah, how lovely!" I said
aloud, taking a deep breath. I ran across the
verandah, with Beeta tucked under my arm.
While I gulped down the milk, I heard Papa
calling out to the driver.
"Papa is still here, Bhaiya. He hasn't gone to
the clinic, today," I said overwhelmed with joy.
Being engrossed in a magazine, Bhaiya did
not reply, but I could see Papa talking to someone
in his room, which was opposite the dining hall
facing the verandah.
"Papa! Papa! I don't have to go to school, it's a
holiday. Do you have a holiday, too? Look, Beeta
has got fever," I said, all in one breath.
"No, my dear child, I don't have a holiday to-
day. You go and play while I talk to Mr. Singh.
He is very ill. I'll ask the compounder to give
your doll some medicine," Papa said lovingly.
12
It was quite unusual to find my father at home
at that time. Normally he was in his clinic before
I woke up. So I was very happy. My father wiped
his spectacles with the kerchief as he listened to
his patient carefully.
I was on the balcony when I heard, "Baby!
Baby! Come here, see this." It was my brother
from the verandah. He had spread himself on an
easy chair and our dog, Tom, was dancing round
on his hind legs. I burst out laughing.
"Papa will give medicine to Beeta," I said,
showing off.
"And I'll ask Papa to give some medicine to his
darling daughter, because. . . .because she laughs
and laughs," said Bhaiya, tickling me and sending
me into fits of laughter. Being the youngest child
in the family I received everyone's attention and
affection. Papa of
course, was
the most
affectionate.
I ran from one end of the verandah to the other
and then onto the balcony, staying close to Papa's
room to attract his attention while I played. I
swung on the curtain, thumped on the door, tap-
ped on the table, pulled and pushed the chair.
"Look, Bhaiya, what a variety of sounds they
make," I said, pulling the chair, then leaping up
and rapping on the door, clapping my hands,
jumping all the while.
"Don't," pleaded Bhaiya, not taking his eyes off
13
the book in his hand.
Racing back to the window of Papa's room, I
saw him still busy with the patient. I loved to see
him there before me, while I played. 'He must
be liking it, too,' I thought, 'to see me play around
in his room.'
I dragged a chair and climbed onto the table.
This at last drew Papa's attention.
"Baby, be careful, you'll fall down," he said
tenderly.
"Look, Papa, I am taller than everyone," I grin-
ned from ear to ear making my eyes disappear.
All one could see was a set of white teeth and
chubby cheeks.
Both Mr. Singh and Papa smiled. Papa did not
look convinced. So I said again raising my hands
above my head. "Papa I'm a big girl, now."
He nodded with a smile and continued talking
to the patient.
I touched all that I could reach with my hands
till I got to the black switch. 'No, you should not
touch it.' I was imagining what my mother would
have said.
'If you touch it, you'll get hurt,' Bhaiya had
told me once. This was a 'forbidden' article for
me, but how attractive it looked — black against
the light blue wall. Unable to resist the tempta-
tion to touch it, I pressed the switch and the light
came on. I immediately switched it off. I was
14
scared, I looked at Papa with large anxious eyes,
but he was busy writing. He did not see me. I
looked at Papa again and then at the switch which
begged my hands to touch it again.
'I'll do it just once more, okay?' I said softly to
myself. I repeated the mischief once more and
was unable to stop myself from doing it again and
again. I seemed to have disturbed Papa who was
15
concentrating on the patient's problem. Without
looking up from the book, he said in a serious
voice, "Don't do that, you might get a shock."
The klick-klack of the switch and the glowing
bulb fascinated me, "Baby, come here, let Papa
do his work," called my brother.
I ignored everybody. This was the most fasci-
nating game for me at the moment.
TIow fantastic! I press — the light is on, I push
— the light goes off', I muttered.
The patient, obviously, had some serious prob-
lem. My father sat with four books open in front
of him. My running around had certainly disturb-
ed him. Completely exasperated, he put down his
pen and spectacles and shouted at me, "You're not
listening to me. GET DOWN FROM THERE!"
His loud voice broke my trance. I gaped
at him wide-eyed. He fixed his gaze on me, ex-
pecting to be obeyed instantly. I was shocked at
being scolded so loudly by him — scolded by
Papa. Papa, a very soft spoken person, who was
known never to raise his voice, had SHOUTED
in anger at his darling daughter. I was very angry
with him.
I jumped down from the table with a loud thud
and raced up and down the balcony. My breath
quickened, my face went red with anger, and my
eyes felt hot with unshed tears. Throwing my
hands about, I raced up and down wanting to
16
destroy everything that came in my way.
Hearing the commotion Bhaiya came out.
"What is it?" he asked. My fury found a ready
victim and I ran towards him and pushed him. I
felt like bursting into tears. I rushed and pulled
at the curtain in Papa's room, which came down
with the force. I saw Papa talking to the patient
with his usual patience.
How unthoughtful of him! He is not a bit
bothered about my being so angry with him. 1
was fuming all the more.
I went back into the room, stamping my feet
noisily in anger. Standing close to Papa, I raged
vehemently, "Why couldn't you say it softly?
Why did you speak so loudly to me?"
The next moment I came out on the balcony
and stood beside the money-plant pot. My eyes
were now full of tears. I plucked a leaf and shred-
ded it to pieces. The sound of a chair being pushed
in Papa's room reached my ears and then I heard
his footsteps coming closer to me. I tried to run
away in annoyance, but Papa caught me. He pull-
ed my face towards his and picked me up. Tears
came rolling down my plump cheeks. He patted
my head lovingly and wiped my tears.
"Oh, you big cat!" said Papa, ruffling my hair.
This affectionate gesture melted my wrath. A
moment later I was once again happy playing
round the house.
17
To The Memory Of A Lion
Tanaji Malusare was Shivaji's childhood friend
and companion at arms. He was very brave and
daring. Shivaji proudly called him his Sivnha or
Lion. Tanaji had planned and fought many a bat-
tle by the side of his leader. They were deter-
mined to free their land from Mughal domination.
Tanaji lived in the small town of Umratha. One
morning, Umratha wore a festive look. Colourful
bunting fluttered in the streets. There was a
Mangal Kolas* at every door. Tanaji's son was
to be married that day. People went in and out
of his house, busy running errands.
Just then a messenger came galloping down the
street. "Look!" cried a man who had noticed him
in the distance. "What news can he be bringing?"
he asked Tanaji's servant who was near him. Be-
fore the servant could reply, the rider came to a
stop in front of them. He leapt off his horse and
said, "Where is Tanaji? I must see him at once."
"In the house Sir," answered the servant. He
had recognised the rider. "I'll take you to him."
"Sire," the servant called out.
"Pots decorated with mango leaves and a coconut.
18
Tanaji and his wife were busy selecting and
packing clothes and ornaments for the bride and
the groom.
"Who is there?" he asked.
"Suryaji," replied the servant.
Tanaji put aside the jewel-case he was holding
and stepped forward. "Come in, Suryaji".
Suryaji entered and bowed to Tanaji and his
wife.
"Welcome, my friend. What brings you
here?" he asked. His wife, too, stopped inspecting
the sari she had in her hand.
"Ka/e* wants you at Raigarh immediately," re-
plied Suryaji.
Tanaji knew at once that it was something
serious. He turned swiftly to his wife and put his
hand affectionately on her shoulder. "My dear,"
he said, "you know I have to go. Postpone the
wedding. My first duty is to my leader and my
land. Come, smile and bid me farewell. Do not
wony. Suryaji and my men will be with me."
Tanaji's wife was stunned. She held back her
tears.
"Please wait," she said and went in to prepare
the ' tilak an d 'arti'*** for the farewell.
"His Majesty.
s 3Vermillion mark on forehead.
co "moving a lighted lamp round a soldier before he goes to
battle.
19
Tanaji buckled his sword and stepped out of
the room. He ordered his men to be ready to ac-
company him. The news spread and soon the
soldiers assembled outside his house.
After his wife had applied 'tilak' on his fore-
head and performed the 'arti\ Tanaji took leave
of her.
Leading an army of horsemen, he rode fast to
reach Raigarh fort. Tanaji walked straight into
Shivaji's room and found him sitting in a pensive
mood.
"Raje, I'm here at your service," said Tanaji
bowing.
"Oh! my Sivnha has come!" exclaimed Shivaji.
He embraced Tanaji and said, "Come, sit down.
We have a difficult assignment. Ma Sahib* feels
that the other forts are not safe so long as we
do not recapture Kondana fort.
"Udai Singh Rathor is in command of the
Mughal forces. His men are guarding the three
gates. His sons are also with him. All of them are
brave fighters. There is also the killer elephant
Chandrawati. She is a force by herself. I have
thought and thought, but can't find a way of cap-
turing the fort. You are the only one who may
be able to find a way."
The lines deepened on Tanaji's brow. Then
he spoke. "I have a plan. The fort is guarded only
on three sides. We will try to enter from the west."
"What?" Shivaji sprang up. "Enter from the
west? You're not planning to climb that precipice?
It is unassailable."
Tanaji said coolly ��� "No, Raje, it is not the
way I intend doing it." He then explained his plan
to Shivaji in detail.
"It is a daring plan," said Shivaji anxiously.
"Very difficult to execute. Everything depends on
just one thing."
"Yes, it is difficult, Raje, but not impossible.
4 Queen Mother.
21
We will prepare well and we will succeed."
Tanaji sounded confident.
"Very well, go ahead with your preparations.
May Goddess Bhawani* bless you."
Tanaji bowed to Shivaji and left. He called
Suryaji and some of his personal friends who were
waiting in the adjoining room. He swore them to
secrecy and then told them of the plan.
"We begin preparing at once. Drill the soldiers,
perfect them in the use of arms, but do not tell
them for what. We have to take the enemy by
surprise.'
Soon everything was ready. Tanaji called his
friends, and announced, "Tonight we attack. It
is a moonless night and nothing will be visible.
All of you must be absolutely silent as you ap-
proach Kondana fort. I will take the iguana Yash-
wanti. With her help, we will scale the rock."
Then he turned to Suryaji. "You are to take the
rest of the men and wait at Kalyan Gate. We will
throw it open for you."
Last minute preparations over, they marched
to the fort quietly as shadows. In a short while
they reached the foot of the precipice. Tanaji tied
a rope to Yashwanti's neck. Then he threw her
up hard, so she could clutch the wall. But the
iguana lost her grip and slithered down.
"Shivaji's family diety.
22 1
"Oh, it is a sign of bad luck!" exclaimed one of
the soldiers.
Tanaji whirled round, "Who said that? There
is no place for superstition in a soldier's life. He
must only have faith, in himself and in God."
Tanaji once again hurled the iguana up with
greater force. This time Yashwanti gripped the
top of the fort wall. Tanaji breathed a sigh of
relief.
"Hand me the bag containing the ropes," said
Tanaji. A soldier gave it to him and he slung it
on his back.
"I go up first. I will tie the ropes to the pro-
jections on the wall and let them down. With their
help you can all climb up. Remember not a
sound."
Tanaji held the rOpe tight and climbed up and
up till he reached the ramparts. The soldiers
followed him. Within minutes they were at the top.
Tanaji whispered, "There must be a number
of guards posted on the ramparts. Take them
unawares and silence them. They should not be
allowed to sound the alarm. We'll get down and
attack the soldiers inside the fort. Let's go."
The men stonned the fort and overpowered
the guards in no time. Shouting 'Jai Bhatoani',
they rushed into the fort. The Mughal soldiers
offered stiff resistance and a fierce hand to hand
fight ensued.
23
One of the Mughal soldiers quietly slipped
out and rushed to inform Udai Singh.
"The Marathas have entered my fort? But
how?" cried Udai Singh.
He sprang from his bed and hurried to the next
apartment.
"Wake up, my sons. Tell
the
mahout* to get Chandrawati. She'll crush the
Marathas in no time."
Udai Singh's sons joined in the battle and the
mahout sent Chandrawati charging into the
fray. The Marathas fought bravely. The casual-
ties were heavy. Among the first to perish were
Udai Singh's three sons and Chandrawati, the
elephant. Tanaji went looking for Udai Singh.
Udai Singh had by then heard of his sons
deaths. He rushed into the melee. "Tanaji,
you have a lot to answer for. You can't escape
me."
"That we'll see," cried Tanaji. With drawn
swords, they closed in.
Both were brilliant swordsmen. The battle
raged fiercely round them. The attackers had got
the better of the defenders. In a strategic move,
a section of the Maratha soldiers had thrown
open Kalyan Gate.
Tanaji and Udai Singh were locked in a life
and death struggle.
Both were tired and bleeding profusely. Udai
"Elephant-driver.
24
Singh made a gallant effort and plunged his
sword into Tanaji's chest. Tanaji stumbled and
fell. Quite unexpectedly he sprang up and inflic-
ted a mortal wound on a triumphant Udai Singh.
He fell dead. Tanaji, too collapsed and died.
All was quiet when Suryaji entered the fort.
He rushed around, looking for Tanaji. He found
him lying in a pool of blood. He knelt to feel his
pulse.
He looked aghast at his dead friend. His grief
soon turned into anger. "We must complete your
task", he muttered, drawing his sword.
The Marathas, infuriated by Tanaji's death,
fell on their foes like tigers. Udai Singh's death
had taken the fight out of the Mughals. After a
brief struggle, the Marathas won the battle.
Kondana fort was once again in their hands.
Suryaji returned to Raigarh fort to inform
Shivaji of their victory. He was anxiously waiting
for them.
"Raje, the fort is taken," said Suryaji.
"Good. But where is Tanaji?"
Suryaji hung his head and remained silent.
"Speak, Suryaji!" cried Shivaji shaking him by
his shoulders. "What has happened to him?"
"He is dead!" Suryaji said in a broken voice.
Shivaji's face went pale as he mumbled, "The
fort is won, but my lion is gone." He turned and
walked to the window.
25
He stood there looking out.
A memorial to Tanaji stands on the spot where
he fell. It is called 'Sivnha Garh
"The lion's fort.
The Triumphant Smile
Humayun lay in a coma. His father Babar stood
beside his bed, sad and worried. The Chief
Vizier and the nobles crowded behind him. The
queen with tears in her eyes begged of the
emperor, "Save Humayun's life, my Lord". In
between sobs she said again, "Save my son from
the clutches of death."
Babar stood aghast and moaned in grief. "O
God, how helpless am I! I can't even save my son.
I can't save my own flesh, my own blood.... "
The palace herald announced, "Here comes
Shahi Hakim."*
The Hakim entered the room and offered his
respects to the emperor. Babar knelt before him
pleading, "O life-giver! Save my child." The
Hakim was taken aback and bent down to raise
the Emperor to his feet. "O my Lord," he said,
"I'm just an ordinary servant of yours. I promise I
won't leave any stone unturned. But to grant life
is in God's hands. Have faith in Him. He is Rahim.
He is Karim, the kind and the merciful. Beg His
"Royal physician.
27
mercy, Sir. I can only examine the patient and
diagnose the illness."
The Hakim felt Humayun's pulse. Then he ex-
amined the closed eyelids. He tried to open his
mouth too, but it was shut tight. The Hakim un-
buttoned Humayun's shirt and applied a strong-
smelling balm to his chest. The prince slowly
opened his eyes and mouth too, but did not show
recognition.
"Asalam
walekumPrince,"
the
Hakim
greeted him. But there was no reply. "Asalam
ivalekum," he repeated. "Look at me Prince. Look
at your father. Don't you recognise your mother
sitting by your side?"
There was still no response. Humayun's va-
cant looks were fixed on the ceiling. The queen
took Humayun in her arms and moaned.
"O Humayun, my son, won't you call me
Anuria* * anymore? Here, here look at your
Abba* * * Say something my son, say a few words!"
But Humayun didn't utter a sound. Babar stood
dazed beside the Hakim, while the queen's heart-
rending cries continued to fill the room.
The Hakim opened another bottle and poured
a few drops of nectar into Humayun's parted lips.
But the drops flowed out. The Hakim mumbled,
"God bless you (Muslim greeting).
0 0 Mother
"""Father
28
"He has not accepted the medicine. I'm sure his
throat is swollen and clogged." He took a piece
of paper and wrote down the names of some medi-
cines. "Here my Lord! I can only prescribe these
potions for the patient. Kindly try them. Howal
shaft'•!* May God cure him," said the Hakim.
He handed the slip to the Emperor and left
the palace in dismay.
Babar passed the prescription on to the Chief
Vizier. Meanwhile, one of the court priests had
entered the chamber. He bowed low and said,
"My Lord! Kindly offer to God whatever you love
most. I am sure God will be kind enough to give
Humayun a new lease of life."
"Should I renounce my wealth and my king-
dom?" asked Babar.
"That's up to you, my Lord. You should offer
what you love most," the priest replied.
"What do I love most?" the Emperor muttered.
"Only you can answer that my Lord."
"Dearest to my heart is Humayun," Babar
replied.
"Surely, to save the Prince, Your Majesty would
not hesitate to offer something equally dear to
Allah?" urged the priest.
"Ah! It is my own life that I love most," said
Babar with a triumphant smile.
°God bless you with good health.
29
"Allah-O-AkbarIn the presence of all nobles
and courtiers of my empire, I, Zaheerud-Din
Babar, do hereby offer my own life to God Al-
mighty to save Humayun my dearest son. Let his
malady strike me. Let Humayun recover. May I
die and may Humayun live for ever and ever."
As soon as he had finished speaking Babar sat
down on the mat to offer prayers to the Lord.
The anguished queen flung herself at Babar's
feet and cried, "No, no, my Lord. You cannot die.
Let the Almighty take my life. Humayun must
live under your patronage."
"No, Begum.0 My pledge to the Almighty
must hold good. I must defeat death. I have lived
a hero's life. Let me die a hero's death for Huma-
yun," muttered Babar as he lay down on the mat
feeling faint and dizzy from the pain in his chest.
"Allah-O-Akbar," whispered Babar again with
the same triumphant smile on his lips, as his eyes
closed.
At the same time Humayun regained cons-
ciousness and opened his eyes.
"Allah is the Greatest.
"Woman of noble rank.
30
The Turkish Cap
The school bell rang. Recess at last! We rush-
ed out of the classroom. I took the 'gulli ° out
of my satchel before I ran out. Khushal took
the ' clanda an d followed me. Panna, Raghu-
bir, Brijpal, Prakash, Kaushal, Bishen, Nityanand,
all dashed out, followed by others. We reached
the ground outside our school compound where
we usually played.
Prakash drew a big circle. Khushal entered it.
It was his turn to begin the game. He placed the
'gulli' in the centre of the circle, and took the
'danda to strike the gulli. The others took their
positions round the circle. Everybody's eyes were
on Khushal. He struck the 'gulli' hard. It flew out
of the circle and went quite far. None of us could
catch it.
Nityanand was the first to reach the 'gulli'.
Picking it up, he threw it back with all his strength.
Khushal struck hard again. It went flying in
another direction.
Bishen was fielding that side. He tried to catch
"Short stick used in the game of tip-cat (gullidanda).
"Stic k used in the same game.
31
it but it slipped through his fingers. He picked it
up and threw it back towards Khushal. Khushal
once again hit it back.
It was my turn next. But the way Khushal was
hitting I felt my turn would never come. I would
have to wait till the next day. I was hoping Khu-
shal would miss just once. Then I would be able
to start. But Khushal was proving too good a
player for us.
Then Panna threw the 'gulli to Khushal. It did
not even reach the circle. Khushal struck it force-
fully towards Brijpal. Brijpal could not catch it
either. It should have been an easy catch. I curs-
ed him for missing it. Brijpal was also sorry foi
the slip. But what could he do now? He flung the
gulli back with a vengeance. Khushal didn't miss
this time either.
The 'gulli was now flying towards me. I was
ready to catch it. But it never came!
All of a sudden there was a lot of noise. A man
in kurtci* pyjama was standing in the middle of
the play field. His turkish cap was lying on the
ground, upside down. The 'gulli seemed to have
hit the cap on its way to me. The wonder of it
all was that the 'gulli' had landed inside the cap.
The man was furious. "You naughty boys! See,
what you have done. I will teach you a lesson,"
he shouted.
"Long loose shirt worn with pyjamas.
32
"I am sorry, Sir," Khushal said promptly. "I
did not do it deliberately. It just happened. But,
I am very sorry."
.
"Is this your playground? Why don't you play
in your school compound?" the man shouted.
Brijpal went up to him. "Sir, we are sorry for
what happened. Our school compound is very
small."
"That is why we play here everyday," Bipin
added.
"And this is how you play here, isn't it?" the
man said wryly. "I'll go to your headmaster. Then
you will leam how to play and where to play."
Khushal and Brijpal pleaded. "Sir, please ex-
cuse us. We will be careful in future."
The man did not appear to be satisfied. I
thought I could save the situation. I picked up
his cap to hand it over to him. He snatched it
from me. I could not remove the 'gulli from it.
Turning round, he started walking rapidly to-
wards the school. All of us followed him, begging
his pardon all the way. But he wpuld not listen.
I stole a glance at my friends. They all looked
mournful. I too was scared of the headmaster's
temper.
The man entered the school building, and went
straight to the headmaster's office. The peon out-
side tried to stop him. He just brushed him aside
and went in. We could hear loud voices coming
34
from within. All of us were praying silently. We
had crept to the courtyard facing the headmaster's
room. We tried guessing the conversation they
were having and the consequences. Soon the
peon came and called us. One by one we enter-
ed the headmaster's room.
"Who is responsible for all this?" he asked in
a thundering voice. "How many times have I told
you to keep within the school compound?"
We looked at one another. No one could say a
word. The headmaster raised his voice, "Are all
of you dumb? Why don't you speak up?"
I made bold to reply, "Sir, we are sorry. We
shall be careful in future."
The headmaster merely said, "Apologise to this
gentleman, all of you."
"We have been begging his pardon, Sir," it
was Brijpal.
"You must apologise in my presence," the
headmaster insisted.
We chorused, "We are very sorry, Sir."
"O.K. boys," the man said and turned towards
the headmaster. "And thank you, Sir." He look-
ed satisfied, and moved towards the door.
Just as he was going out and we were about to
leave, the headmaster asked, "Now, whose stroke
was it?"
I looked towards Khushal. He was looking at
me. I looked round. My heart was beating faster
35
and faster. But how could I blame my friend?
With a sinking feeling, I decided I would take the
blame. A faint smile played on the headmaster's
face. Somehow I felt it was not for any punish-
ment that the question was asked. I opened my
mouth to reply.
But Khushal was quicker. "Sir, it was my
stroke. I am very sorry."
"What a stroke!" the headmaster exclaimed.
"You strike the
'gulli', hit a man's cap, make it
fall, and then land the 'gulli' inside it! A master
player, no doubt!"
I could not suppress my laughter. But I could
not laugh in the headmaster's presence, either.
So, I checked myself and with some difficulty
managed a wide smile. When I looked round,
the others were also trying to suppress their laugh-
ter. We were eager to go out and have a hearty
laugh. The man with the turkish cap also turned
round at the door. He too looked amused. Still
smiling he went away.
We trooped out of the room. Then we let our-
selves go.
36
The Goose Thieves
It was Bina who first got wind of what was
happening. She happened to be passing the school
kitchen where they cooked meals for the nuns
and boarders. George, the school-bus driver, was
lounging around talking to the cooks inside. Bina,
who was looking for some botanical specimens in
the backyard, stopped suddenly in her tracks.
Waddling sedately towards her was a bevy of
large, awkward looking geese.
"Oh hello, Christopher Columbus, hi Marco
Polo, hi Captain Cook, hello Amundsen," she
greeted them. The geese hurried towards her,
their heads bobbing back and forth. The boarders
had named the geese after famous explorers be-
cause they were constantly exploring the school
grounds. Once they had wandered into Bina's
classroom, during a very boring civics class and
had scared the daylights out of Miss K. The class
had roared with laughter as Miss K. tried to
chase the intruders out by flapping a large, che-
cked, board duster.
As Bina patted them, she heard one of the
cooks giggle and threaten George. "If you keep
37
demanding more food, we'll really fatten you up
and have you for the Christmas feast like those
geese outside."
Bina's heart sank. These sweet, lovable geese
were actually being fattened for Christmas! It
couldn't be! The schoolgirls were much too fond
of them. But what could they do anyway? Bina
sought her friends Vinita, Valerie and Nishi and
told them what she had overheard.
Nishi exploded. "Nonsense! Not our Marco
Polo and Amundsen, our poor Captain Cook, and
Columbus — no, no we won't let them be killed
and eaten."
Valerie however was the thoughtful sort. "But
how can we stop them? They have every right to
do what they like with the geese. That's done
every Christmas. We have no right to make any-
body do anything. After all, they aren't even our
geese!"
Vinita was close to tears. "But we've seen them
around for weeks. School won't be the same
without those darlings waddling in and out of
the classrooms. We can't let them be killed!"
Bina had been quiet all this time, working out
a plan. "I think we can do something about it,"
she said finally. "In fact there is something we
can do to stop the geese from turning up on the
school dining table for Christmas."
Nishi muttered disbelievingly, "If you're going
38
to suggest to Mother Superior that we should
have a heart-to-heart talk about it, count me out.
I quake in my boots when I see her coming."
"Besides," said Valerie, "who are we for her to
listen to? "
"Listen to me," Bina interrupted. "I have a real
good idea. The more I think about it, the better
it appears."
"Out with it, Beans," Vinita was impatient.
"We'll kidnap them!" Bina exclaimed and sat
back to watch her friends' reaction.
"What!" burst out Nishi, "kidnap!"
"You mean it'll work?" Vinita sounded doubt-
ful.
"Why not?"
Only Valerie said slowly, "It's a possibility! We
could keep them in my backyard. We have lots
of space."
The four sat together and thought. Gradually
it struck the other three that Bina's idea was
workable. If they could but grab the four geese
and smuggle them somewhere far away from
school there would be no geese for the cooks to
fatten and slaughter for the Christmas dinner.
The next few days, the four of them thought
over and discussed plans in secret, till the rest of
the class almost went crazy. They would huddle
in a comer of the lawn or in the assembly hall
or library. Whenever anybody wanted to find
39
out what they were discussing, they would
innocently say like Valerie once did to an inquisi-
tive girl — "Oh we are discussing the exploits of
Marco Polo the traveller."
"But we learnt all about him in geography last
year," said the stubborn girl and went off,
mumbling to herself.
D-day drew nearer. It was mid-December and
getting very cold. The girls came to school clad
in heavy blazers. The day before the plan was
put into action the four friends met on the lawn.
"All set?" Bina looked round and blew on her
hands for warmth. "Everybody sure about their
parts?"
"Hmmm."
"Of course."
"Everything's fine."
"Good."
The next morning Bina went to school, wearing
a large sized blue overcoat. Mother Superior
noticed her at once, even before morning
assembly.
"What is this?" she asked Bina. "You know very
well that you're not supposed to wear any coat
except your blazer to school."
"Yes Mother," Bina said innocently, "but on my
way here the upstairs lady threw out some water
which fell on me. I couldn't come to school wear-
ing a wet blazer."
40
Mother Superior nodded. "That's all right," she
said.
She was however dumbfounded when three
other girls of the same class turned up wearing
oversized coats.
She shook her head in disbelief as they in turn
made some excuse for turning up in their mo-
thers coats.
"This is too much,'' she shouted. "Four of you!
Is this some kind of a practical joke?"
Nishi looked nervous. Bina patted her arm and
said aloud, "What a coincidence. Four of us turn-
ing up like this! It's funny, isn't it?"
There was a pause and then Mother Superior
smiled, "Go on, go to your class. But I hope coin-
cidences like this do not happen too often."
The girls fled to their classroom. The others
stared at them in surprise. The moment classes
were over for that day, the four friends charged
out. Their natural science teacher already totter-
ing rather unsteadily on stilettos was thrown off-
balance and fell heavily against the tall human
skeleton in the corner of the room, as the four
ran past her. Their classmates squealed in sym-
pathy.
Bina, Valerie, Nishi and Vinita had already
disappeared down the corridor, past the library
and assembly hall, across the courtyard and to-
wards the kitchen. The kitchen was deserted and
41
there was nobody in sight either.
Just then, as if on cue, the four explorers walk-
ed out from behind a bush.
"Grab," yelled Nishi forgetting to whisper and
lunged at Christopher Columbus.
"Eee-yowa," howled Bina as she reached for
Marco Polo and was left with a feather from his
tail as he slipped away.
Valerie ran after Amundsen, and Vinita after
Captain Cook who was scurrying across the cab-
bage-patch.
Bina caught her prey and tossed him inside her
overcoat. But he was larger than she had thought
and he stuck out conspicuously on her left side
as he straggled to free himself. Bina ignored him,
and shouted instructions to the others, "Get him
from over there, right there... . Oh no! he's gone
behind the bench... . you go from this side... .
got him. . . .no? Oh there he is.. . . quick
get him.. . .great!'' Nishi gripped Amundsen
tightly, Christopher Columbus having fled to-
wards Valerie who was chasing him round and
round a cactus bush.
"That's enough!" a sharp authoritarian voice
lashed out. The girls looked up with instinctive
dread. Mother Superior stood on top of the kit-
chen steps, tall and unapproachable. The cook,
Mary, peeped out from behind her.
There was pin-drop silence for a few seconds.
42
Then, as Valerie and Vinita whirled round, their
prey fled cackling loudly to safer pastures.
Mother Superior looked sternly at them. "Now
what's all this in aid of?" she asked in a quiet icy
voice. "Is this your idea of fun?" There was a
deathly silence. From inside Bina's coat Marco
Polo gave an indignant squawk. Bina retrieved
him and dumped him unceremoniously on the
ground where he shook back his ruffled feathers
and trundled off. Nishi put Amundsen down and
he too waddled off.
v Mother Superior was tight lipped. "Can I ex-
pect an explanation?"
The four of them exchanged glances. "We did
not really mean it, Mother Superior.... We just
thought it was very cruel. . . .And we're so fond
of them!"
"It's not fair to eat them.. . we love them so
much."
"After all there are so many other animals in
the whole world. Why eat these?"
Mother Superior raised one hand to silence
them, "One of you explain. Not all of you to-
gether. ... "
Bina explained. She had a soothing voice. By
the time she finished, Mother Superior was quite
relaxed and trying to hide a smile.
"Kidnap them!" she exclaimed. "Kidnap?"
Mary, who had been quiet all this time, sud-
denly roared with laughter.
"Oh! Its so funny," she burst out. They all had
an uproarious laugh. Finally Mother Superior
said, patting the girls on their shoulders, "What-
ever gave you girls the idea we were going to eat
these fellow's? Certainly not. We're too fond of
them. We won't kill them for the sake of one
meal. They're yours girls! Yours to play with and
look after."
"Thank you, Mother Superior," four voices
sang in chorus. "Its wonderful to know you never
intended killing them in the first place."
44
Christmas Bells
Once again, father was transferred. This time
to the sleepy town of Palai in Kerala.
On arrival at Palai, we moved into a house,
surrounded by banana trees, beds of tapioca,
roses and chrysanthemums. Bordering them were
a dozen coconut palms, reaching out to the stars
in the sky.
I pranced round the house, exploring every
nook and corner.
My mother was busy unpacking the cartons
and arranging the various articles in the proper
places.
I was bored. I picked up a rubber ball and went
into the garden.
I ran round the garden chasing the ball or
watching squirrels scramble up the trees or
observing the humming bees.
The ball which I kept bouncing up and down
went over the parapet into the compound of the
neighbouring house. I saw a little boy, almost my
age, rushing out and collecting the ball. He roll-
ed his eyes, put out his tongue and teased me. I
did not like his attitude. I too rolled my eyes and
45
stuck out my tongue at him.
"Why did you throw the ball into my house?"
he asked loudly.
"I did not throw it. It came by itself," I
replied.
"Then let it come back by itself. I won't give it
to you."
"I will snatch it from you."
Try.
I climbed up the parapet, jumped over it and
chased the boy. He ran off, turning and twisting,
weaving his way through the thick vegetation. I
raced round the garden after him. At last, after
ten minutes of running around, we sank down,
panting for breath.
"I am Raman," I broke the ice.
"Thomas," he offered his hand.
"Glad to meet you."
"Let us be friends."
"All right. I need a friend."
That was the beginning of an association that
soon developed into a close and intimate friend-
ship.
We spent all our time together, eating from the
same plate, playing hide and seek, chasing butter-
flies, climbing trees, plucking unripe mangoes
and sinking our teeth into the slightly sour pulp.
Occasionally we fought like cats and dogs, claw-
ing and tearing at each other, only to forget our
46
differences soon, swearing never to fight again.
Nights were the hardest for us. Then we were
pulled apart. We had to be carried away by force
by our parents, while we raved and kicked and
cried to be left to ourselves.
Thomas told me all about Christmas. I listened
to him, fascinated. He told me that Christmas
came in the last week of December. He invited
me to spend Christmas Eve with him.
I looked forward eagerly for Christmas to come.
I associated it with new clothes, sweet dishes,
happiness and celebration.
Thomas suddenly became docile. I did not like
this change. I threw dust on his clothes. Still, he
kept on smiling. I threw a stone at him. He winc-
ed with pain. But, he did not retaliate. He only
said, "I wish I could hit you back."
"Why don't you do it, then?" I teased him.
"Because I must be good and obedient. Only
then will I get a gift from Father Christmas."
I too wanted a gift from Father Christmas,
whoever he was. I meekly asked, "Thomas, will
he give me a gift too?"
"Only if you are good," Thomas said in a sup-
erior tone.
Thomas and I waited eagerly for Christmas to
come. We did not misbehave. We obeyed our
parents. We gave up chasing squirrels. We gave
up fighting.
47
It was a long wait for us.
At last, Christmas Eve came.
Dressed in my best, I ran over to my friend's
house. His father, Mr. Jacob, took me by the arm.
He led me round the house. Thomas accompani-
ed me. I saw the gaily decorated Christmas tree.
Tiny flames at the tips of the candles danced with
the mild breeze that wafted along.
Myriad candles threw gentle shadows and
changed shapes with the flickering of the flame.
Paper bunting and ornate cardboard lamps
peered at us from every corner. Star-shaped lamps
hung from the branches of the trees too.
A jackfruit tree, further away from the house,
stood in the hazy glow cast by a star-shaped light.
We waited for Father Christinas to come.
"When will he come?" Thomas asked his father.
"Wait. He is due any moment now."
"What will he bring for me?" Thomas asked.
"New clothes and sweets."
"For me too?" I asked.
"Of course, for you too, my dear."
Suddenly, Mr. Jacob shouted, "Look, there's
Father Christmas, your own Santa Claus."
We did a double turn and stared in the direc-
tion of the jackfruit tree. What we saw was re-
markable. We saw a bearded man, wearing a
dhoti* and a full sleeved shirt, flashing a bright
"Loin-cloth.
48
smile, descending from heaven! Over his shoulder
hung a heavy sack. We watched him float down.
Then, we ran towards him, our hearts bursting
with delight.
"Merry Christmas to you, children," Santa
Claus spoke in a gruff but affectionate voice.
"Do you have a cold, Santa?" Thomas queried.
"Yes."
"You must consult our doctor. He will give you
an injection, and you will feel better very soon,"
said Thomas.
"Thank you."
"Where are our gifts, Santa?" Thomas and I
asked almost together. We could not conceal our
curiosity any longer.
Santa Claus smiled, released his hold, and al-
lowed the sack that hung on his shoulder to slip
down to the floor. He heaved a sigh of relief."It
is too heavy, boys," he muttered.
"Why didn't you engage a coolie?"* Thomas
asked.
"Well, I wanted to bring the gifts for my dear
children myself."
"Oh, come on, Santa, let us have the gifts."
"Wait," Santa untied the string that bound the
sack. He pushed his hand into it and pulled out
a big fat packet and handed it to me.
"Thank you, Santa," I replied happily.
"Porter.
50
"Here's your gift, Thomas," Santa took out
another packet from the sack and gave it to
Thomas.
Thomas accepted the gift. But he seemed
to have lost interest in it. He suddenly dropped
the packet he had in his hand and tugged at my
shirt. Puzzled, I raised my eyes.
"Look. There's a mole on Santa's nose."
"So what?" I asked.
"Mammen Ammavan* too has a mole on the
nose."
Thomas did not waste words. He bounded up
to Santa Claus and shouted, "Ammavan, when
did you become an agent of God?"
Santa laughed aloud. He took off his flowing
beard. And there he was, our Mammen Ammavan.
"When did you learn to fly?" I asked.
"I can't fly," Mammen Ammavan replied.
"But you flew down from heaven," Thomas
remarked.
"I did. Come I'll show you how I did it."
Mammen Ammavan led us to the foot of the
jackfruit tree. He asked us to look closely at the
branches.
We saw two sturdy men sitting on one of the
branches.
They held in their hands a long rope that reach-
ed down to the ground.
"Uncle.
51
We were baffled.
We looked at Ammavan.
He smiled. Then, he said, "I climbed up the
tree, along with those two men. I had a rope
round my waist. I put the sack full of presents
on my shoulder. Then I asked them to let me
down, slowly, releasing the rope so that it would
appear to you as if Father Christmas were com-
ing down from heaven. I arranged it in such a
way that my arrival would be sensational."
"Oh, it was a grand sight! We'll never forget
this evening when a dhoti-c\a.d Santa came down
from heaven, bringing us gifts," Thomas and I
shouted happily and moved back to the house,
trailing behind Mammen Ammavan.
In A Guava Orchard
Safdar, Ajay and I dashed out of the classroom
as the bell rang. It was the lunch break, and we
had a whole hour to play. Safdar was the tallest,
also the strongest amongst us. He was our leader.
Ajay and I followed him meekly, like lambs!
We frisked about cheerfully over a path that
led to a guava orchard. There was a mud wall
round it. Safdar who was in high spirits leaped
over it and bragged, "Look at the guavas! Come
on, kids. Let's have a feast."
Ajay also leaped over the wall, saying, "What
fun. How lovely!"
I smacked my Hps at the sight of the luscious
green guavas in the orchard. I was however,
afraid that we might be caught by the watchman.
But Safdar's presence emboldened me.
I too jumped over the wall. There were trees
and trees—all bursting with ripe and unripe
guavas. We roamed freely. Safdar was greedily
eating ripe guavas, while Ajay and I leaped like
monkeys and devoured the unripe ones. I pre-
ferred raw guavas and I could never have enough.
I stuffed my pockets. I wanted to carry them as
53
a souvenir of our daring expedition to the orchard.
Wouldn't my classmates gape at them, eyes
bulging!
Suddenly, I heard Safdar's cry, "Ajay! Lokesh!
Run, run! The watchman is coming." Perched on
top of a branch, I saw the tall, sinister-looking
figure of the watchman approaching. He was
waving a staff in his hand. Safdar and Ajay were
already on the ground, and had started running.
The watchman waved his staff and ran after them,
shouting, "Thieves! Thieves! See they don't
escape." I lost no time; I jumped down from the
tree and took to my heels. Safdar and Ajay were
far ahead and I ran faster. As I leapt over ditches
and boulders in the orchard, the guavas began
to fall out of my pockets.
The watchman chased us furiously. After what
seemed ages, the mud wall came into view. Saf-
dar, who was the first to reach it took a flying
leap over it. Ajay, close behind, managed to roll
over.
Safdar kept shouting, "Run, Lokesh, run! The
fellow is closing in!"
I put in every ounce of energy I had and ran
like mad. The watchman came charging like a
bull, bellowing curses. A host of street urchins
had by then appeared from nowhere and joined
the chase.
"Now jump," cried Safdar.
54
I took a mighty leap and landed on top of the
wall. The last guava in my pocket rolled out.
I felt miserably cheated. I didn't want to lose
it at any cost. I jumped back into the orchard and
stooped to pick it up. It was rather dark, but I
managed to find the lost guava. Triumphantly I
held it in my hand and leapt over the wall. Be-
yond it lay the school compound and my friends.
I slipped and fell.
The looming figure of the watchman drew
closer.
Safdar and Ajay were screaming and urging me
not to waste time. As I scrambled up, the watch-
man's steely fingers gripped me. I struggled to
shake him off, but the burly man picked me up,
flung me over his shoulder and walked briskly
back into the orchard.
Soon afterwards, he deposited me before a man
seated on a cot.
"Malik",* he addressed him, wiping perspira-
tion off his forehead, "this fellow is the leader of
a gang of school children. He regularly brings a
number of them to steal our guavas. They des-
troy more than they eat.''
The 'malik' looked calm but formidable. I felt
he would thrash me. I was scared, also ashamed
that I had been caught red-handed.
He stared hard at me. I stood rooted to the
"Master.
56
ground, expecting a tight slap.
He got up from the cot and stood before me.
He looked tall as a palm tree!
"What's your name?" he asked me. "Where do
you live?"
"I'm Lokesh. I study in the school over there.
I'm the Principal's son.
"You like guavas?"
I nodded.
<
"Did you come alone?"
I pointed to Safdar and Ajay, who were still
peeping over the mud wall.
The 'malik' asked the watchman to get a bas-
ket of guavas.
"He's not a thief," he told him. "He is a decent
kid." He waved to my friends and signalled them
to come in.
Safdar and Ajay wouldn't budge an inch. They
stayed where they were.
"Come on Lokesh, ask them to come in," he
urged me.
I was rather dazed and undecided. The man
smiled.
"Call them in, child. Don't be frightened."
I was not afraid any more.
"Come over, Safdar. Come over, Ajay," I shout-
ed. They soon joined me, looking sheepish and
guilty.
We could hardly believe our eyes when the
57
watchman came back with a ^basket of guavas.
"Go ahead and eat as many as you want," said
the malik.
We just stood looking at him. We had expect-
ed him to treat us like thieves.
"You're like my children," his gentle voice was
soothing. This is your garden. You don't have to
enter it like thieves. You go to the watchman. He'll
help you."
Gratefully, we accepted the guavas he offer-
ed. Thanking him profusely we took leave of him.
There was a smile on his face as he bade us
good-bye. "Remember children, do not do any-
thing that makes you feel guilty. You must always
be proud of what you do."
We left the orchard. I was limping a bit but
my pockets were bulging with guavas.
His words are still fresh in my mind.
All Because Of My Hair
"You good for nothing fellow!" one slap.
"You naughty boy!" another slap. "You rascal!"
a shower of slaps. I could see stars dancing at
midday! The portraits of Kabir, Ghalib and Ein-
stein hanging on the wall started swinging. I lost
count of the slaps raining down on my clean
shaven head and face. I wondered if I really de-
served them. I was in class VIII and a boarder
in a Delhi school. I was a good singer and there
were hardly any school functions at which I did
not recite a poem or sing a song.
For days and weeks now, we had been prepar-
ing for an important function. A very prominent
figure was to preside, and so excitement ran high.
The classrooms were cleaned and decorated, and
charts and photographs fixed. Everybody was
busy.
A poem was to be recited in honour of the dis-
tinguished guest. And who else but I could be
asked to recite it?
I didn't tell you that my hair was rather long
in those days. Sometimes my parents would be
angry with me on that account. But when I was
59
sent to the hostel, I thought I would have the
freedom of growing my hair as long as I wanted.
The situation, I realised very soon, was worse at
the hostel. The warden, a venerable old fellow, was
stricter than my parents. He was an artist by pro-
fession and quite unnaturally insisted on every-
thing being neat and clean and in perfect order.
So, very soon, my hair became the bone of con-
tention between us.
Every Sunday, an old barber whom we called
'Khalifaficame to
the hostel. So
the whole
morning I spent playing hide-and-seek with the
warden. However, every fourth or fifth week I'd
be caught and handed over to Khalifafi. He him-
self shuddered at the mere mention of my name
because I was really troublesome. His hands
quivered when he touched my head.
The Sunday before the function the warden
warned me repeatedly that I would be severely
punished if I didn't have a hair-cut.
That was just too bad, because I wanted to
appear on stage with my crowning glory untrim-
med.
But I couldn't escape the warden's clutches and
was duly sent to Khalifaji. The dreaded moment
had come. I had to decide there and then whether
to submit to his threats or revolt.
The devil must have egged me on. I was de-
° Powerful person (used sarcastically)
60
termined to take revenge and settle all accounts,
old and new. I presented my head to Khalifaji
humbly. I even asked him to shave off my head
completely! But, of course he wouldn't take me
seriously. At last, when I insisted, he applied
water on my head. Then before picking up the
razor he asked me for the last time. "Are you sure
you want your head to be clean-shaven?" It took
great effort on my part to convince him. Then,
with trembling hands, he put the razor to my hair.
It took ten minutes to shave my head thrice.
There wasn't the trace of a hair on my shining
scalp, I made Khalifaji trim my eyebrows too.
Then I carefully applied oil to give it a better
shine.
I went back to my room, put on a pair of shorts
and wrapped a towel round my shoulders. Then
I came out of the hostel looking victorious. My
companions burst out laughing and clapped as
they followed me. I headed the procession, look-
ing like a Buddhist monk.
The warden was busy decorating a classroom.
The boisterous procession of boys, yelling, laugh-
ing and clapping, passed by. The warden ran out
of the classroom and stood stunned as he watch-
ed. He could not believe his eyes. He examined
me from head to foot.
That's when the blows started raining down on
me. I had rather anticipated them and now that
61
I think of it—deserved them too.
I was of course not permitted to appear on
stage the next day. But worse still I had to remain
with my monk-like appearance for many months.
After that nobody ever asked me to have a hair-
cut again, and today I am the sole master of my
head and hair!
The Pink Card
Ponni sat on the footpath in front of Berywood
Girls Primary School. She sold knick-knacks for
little girls. Besides pencils, rubbers, sharpners,
rulers, shoelaces and ribbons, she had colourful
sweets and pretty trinkets too. All these were
spread out in front of her on a piece of gunny.
The school bell rang. Ponni watched the girls
hasten into the school. One of them stopped in
front of her.
"A pencil, quick, she said.
"Here," Ponni picked up one and gave it to her.
She grabbed it and turned to cross the road.
"Hev, Ponni called out, "You haven't paid me
for it. Give me twenty five paise."
"Oh! I'm sorry," the girl said coming back.
"The bell has rung. I was in such a hurry I for-
got. She fished out a 25 paise coin from her bag,
and handed it to Ponni. "Here, take it. And, don't
call me 'hev'. My name's Sheela.'
"I'm Ponni," said the vendor, flashing a
friendly smile.
Sheela crossed the road and ran into the
school.
64
That night, as Ponni lay on the ground beside
her mother in their small hut, she said, "Amma,°
I want to go to school, like Sheela."
"Hush, child. I don't have money to send you
to school.'
The next day, as Ponni sat in her usual place
under the shade of a peepul** tree, an old man
came towards her. He carried a small cane bas-
ket in one hand and a bird-cage in the other.
Tucked under his arm was a folded mat. He
spread the dusty old mat under the tree and sat
down on it, putting the basket and the cage
beside him.
"Scree. . .ch, screech", cried the pretty green
parrot in the cage. The bell rang. School was
over. The children trooped out of the gate.
"What're you looking at?" Sheela called out to
Ponni as she came running out.
"At that old man, I wonder who he is?" said
Ponni.
Sheela looked at him curiously, "I think he's a
fortune-teller. The parrot in the cage tells you
what you'll be when you grow up. How exciting!
I must get some money from home tomorrow to
hear my fortune. Bye!" Sheela hurried home.
That night, as her mother was making kanji,***
"Mother
00Holy Fig Tree
00 'Ric e porridge.
65
Ponni sat beside her and asked softly, "Amma,
can I have some money?"
"Whatever for?" snapped her mother.